


Lion of Tarsus

by SineadRivka



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Hurt/Comfort, Tarsus IV, The Tarsus Fuckup, fucking with the continuum, h/c
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-02-28 18:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13277127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SineadRivka/pseuds/SineadRivka
Summary: “Do you know what my blood can do?”“No.”“It can cure you. But it will also make you one of us. So I ask you again, James. Tiberius. Kirk. Do you want to live?”





	1. City of the Dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crossoverAUman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossoverAUman/gifts).



> _**Prompt:** Botany Bay is found earlier, and they end up on Tarsus. Kahn sees bby Kirk and goes “Babe we're gonna adopt him,” and then Kirk is James T Singh._
> 
> _Then he kinda falls in love with them and they get married._
> 
> I’m going to adjust this slightly, because I couldn’t really write something where the kid grows up to love the parents romantically. But the rest of it is a thing that’s happening. Probably two or three chapters total.
> 
> **Song inspiration:[Eurielle – City of the Dead](https://genius.com/Eurielle-city-of-the-dead-lyrics)**

Tarsus Four.

Khan sniffed at the planet they were exiled to. There was a Earth colony on the opposite hemisphere, with the boundaries spelled out to keep the civilian and penal colony separate. They weren’t allowed within twenty miles of the date line or the “midday” line. The leader of the human augments was staring at the line, as close as he could get without alerting Starfleet. So far as he knew, they were still watching them. Though he had his doubts.

He wouldn’t break their peace accord, not after all the hard work that had gone into it. He had his family, and he had land to build upon. There had been talk about the Ceti system, but an old Vulcan had negated that decision, citing the instability of a neighboring planets. But when he had opposed Tarsus as well, the council had told him to sod off.

Apparently, even venerable old Vulcans weren’t high on humanity’s list. Not after the Kelvin incident, anyway.

But this was a problem.

Crops failed, eaten away by a fungus or mold that he and his family, while hardy, were still sickened by. They had, of course, stored protein bars and emergency rations, but nothing could last as long as they assumed it would. But was Starfleet _really_ listening in on them as they claimed?

He was staring at several small figures lumbering closer. They were little more than rags, both in the actual and metaphorical sense.

_Children._

The part of Khan that retained some morality from his childhood saw the children and saw his future.

The part of Khan that had risen from the ashes of his childhood saw extra, unnecessary, _pure human_ mouths to feed.

The two halves warred. But he did not move forward.

A motion to his left . . . and he smiled to his wife. “Siriom.”

“Noonien. Children?”

“Possibly from the Starfleet colony.”

“Hm.” He had seen her mow down armies. She was a worthy individual, but had yet to consent to bearing his children. It was not a fight he would ever take up with her; the choice of children was in her hands. One hand indicated the ragtag pack of miscreants. “What do you intend to do?”

“If they reach us, they are worthy of our care. If they do not reach us and succumb to the elements as their sickness continues, I will not reach for them.”

Siriom was used to his simple utilitarian outlook. One either had worth to the Khan or one did not; it was simple with him. So she turned and cupped her hands around her mouth, voice traveling with the wind at the children five miles away. _“We have clean water!”_

Crossing arms over his chest, watching the children pause, looking for the source. One child with short flaxen hair hadn’t turned their head away from the call. They held their hand up, not moving. The others seemed to settle at their motion, following their gaze. One child wavered on their feet.

Flaxen hair didn’t move.

Smart. Conserving energy better used for the five miles across dusty bowls. The kid had value.

Khan raised his arm, waving it.

One child didn’t make the five-mile hike. One child collapsed ten feet away, but was hefted up. The scrawny teenage boy with the bright hair didn’t falter. He stared at Khan, bright blue eyes bloodshot, old scars evident along his jawline and fresh scars from scalpels around his eyes. This boy had been altered from his birth appearance, and sometime in the last two months. “You’re not Starfleet.”

“No, we are not.”

“They’ve abandoned us after all.”

“Oh?”

“Kodos started the blight,” one of the other kids said from where he sat in the dust, voice prematurely cracked and gravelly. “Then fucking killed off anyone who wasn’t supposedly _valuable_ to his perfect fucking dream. Now everyone’s dying because the mold mutated. And _he can’t fucking stop it._ ”

Khan ignored Siriom’s raised eyebrow. His former eugenics on Earth was not the best track record in this situation, but he had learned. Menial tasks for the ones with lesser value, promote those who had exemplary value. It was still against the codes of his father and mother, but it was better than trying to give each human their utopia. “You sound as if you know what kind of mold he designed.”

“I’d _better_ fucking know; that goddamned arse-wipe is my piece of shit uncle.” The kid tapped his forehead. “I have everything up here.” He grinned ruthlessly. “I’ll tell you the first few steps for some of that clean water.”

“Tom!” the blond hissed. “You’re not the only genius here, dipshit. Obviously, they’ve survived, too, and that’s not for the dumbasses trying to eat their way through the sickness or trying to riot against your fucking uncle.”

“Well put, for a child,” Khan taunted. “But you are also on _our_ territory now, and have very few bargaining chips.”

“No shit,” the kid snarled. “And Kevin’s going to start dying in half an hour, and I have about three days left. We’re all infected from eating the fungus before we knew what was happening.”

“How do you know the timeline so accurately?” Siriom wondered.

The kid’s dead blue gaze filtered enough hatred and fire to make Noonien glad that his wife had called the children. “Because we’re all that’s left from the ‘undesirables.’ We’ve watched everything. And I want to give Kev some clean water before he dies.”

Siriom looked to her husband.

Her husband looked back, and they nodded in unison.

“Come with us. We will carry the weakest ones.”

~*~

Kevin got a taste of clean water with the group, then was whisked into a separate room in the surprisingly-advanced facility they found themselves in not fifteen minutes later. These people had some amazing transports. Jim pounded on the door separating them. “No! Let me in! _Kev!_ ”

Siriom had taken the boy to see Aiofe, leaving Noonien with the other eight children. He knew that they would be fostering one of them. And, as Khan, he had his choice of the children to foster and raise. It was clear that the belligerent Tom, though highly intelligent, did not have the leadership skills he _thought_ he possessed. He would do best with Ling, who had a way with wild creatures. The other six were almost as sickly as little Kevin.

Khan didn’t move from where he lounged with a glass of clean water. “What binds the nine of you together, boy?”

“We—” Tom started.

“I wasn’t talking to you. Learn when your leader is being spoken to. Boy.”

“My _name_ is James Tiberius Kirk.”

“That is quite a heavy name for so young a child. Tell me why you nine band together.”

“We saw Kodos’ face before he locked himself away.”

“Hm.” Finishing his water negligently, he set the glass aside, standing. It was with slow motions, long strides that were predatory and purposeful, that he rounded upon the young man, whose only response was to lift cracked lips in an animalistic snarl. “And you were not among those executed.”

“I’m sorry, last time I heard about people getting killed for no goddamned good reason, it was labeled _murder_. And with it being a _large group_ of people, I’d call that _genocide_.”

“The boy knows his words,” Kadi laughed, pushing away from the doorway she had been leaning around. Another augment, likely Blake, was standing just outside the room out of respect. Kadi was always a bit of a troublemaker. “From the mouth of babes, eh? I’m here to take the other seven.”

“And how do you assume that I would take this one in?”

“He’s you. Only human. Any names speaking for these ones? Word travels fast.”

Khan waved with a vague hand. “Tom. He goes with Ling. The rest can go with whomever have the space and inclination to tame feral children”

“Why are you separating us?” James hissed, eyes narrowing even as he wavered on his feet.

“You will be reunited shortly. But first, recovery. Kevin will survive. He was the weakest, so it was best that he was brought to his caretaker first. You will stay with myself and my wife, Siriom Kaur.”

“Yeah, and who the actual fuck are you?”

“I? Child, I am Khan Noonien Singh.”

~*~

When Jim realized that he was staring at a fucking historical figure, he went silent, analyzing. When the others looked at him, he nodded that they should go. This was a man more powerful than Kodos, with a reputation far more evil. This man, if he was who he said he was, _had_ achieved owning a quarter of the world. And Jim was dying in his presence.

But it was the next action that the man took that truly terrified him.

“Do you wish to live, James Tiberius Kirk?”

“Yes.”

Khan reached into a medkit, pulling out a vial for taking blood. Jim knew those vials. Being born in irradiated space wasn’t kind to infants, after all. But before the teenage boy could ask what the old despot was going to do with it, Khan had rolled a sleeve up, easily finding a vein and pressing the trigger to begin the blood draw. “You seem to know who I am, boy.”

“My name is _Jim_.”

“I am aware. You are also a boy. The two labels are not exclusive. Do you know _what_ I am?” He removed the device, pressing a thumb to the injection site for the brief moment it took him to heal.

“An augment. You and your people took over the world, then disappeared.”

“Do you know what my blood can do?”

“No.”

“It can cure you. But it will also make you one of us. The rest of your merry band are given this same option.” He pulled the vial out, dark blood thick and beading against the glass when he held it up and swirled it. “So I ask you again, James. Tiberius. Kirk. Do you want to live?”


	2. Rescue Me

Jim’s last coherent memory was of taking the hypospray and pressing it to his own scrawny deltoid.

The rest of his memories were a mess of fevered thrashing, arms carefully holding him against a male body, a female curling around him in the midst of his nightmares, blinking up at old-fashioned IV bags and concerned eyes shifting among the colors of Earth’s ocean.

Then silence.

Beeping.

Sterile smells.

He cracked his eyes open, blinking slowly.

A long-fingered hand crossed his vision, stroking the scraggly hair away from his forehead. A voice. “James.”

Turning his head slowly, he saw Khan beside him, still stroking the gaunt lines of his face. The man’s eyes seemed old, but they still lit up when Jim’s eyes met them. “James. Hold still. You’re still recovering. Would you like some water?”

Throat raw and parched, Jim could only nod. A glass and a straw came into his vision, and he sipped at it gratefully, whining breathily when it was taken away. Siriom’s voice was gentle but firm. “Small sips, James.”

With a couple more sips, he could find it in himself to croak out, “Where?”

Noonien didn’t move much, but the motion made Jim look at him . . . then beyond him. Brown grasses and dusty sky were tossed by the wind. “We’re . . . still here. Ship?”

“We’re still on Tarsus, yes. This ship has our medical bay, which we’ve kept running. Your body did not take too kindly to my blood, which is my fault.”

Jim shook his head frantically, unable to speak his horror that they were still on the colony world. But he forced himself to stay calm. He had allergies, and should have _thought_ about those allergies, but like a goddamned _idiot_ , he had just injected a completely new substance into his body without any testing.

“Do you have living guardians, Jim?” Siriom asked, sitting by his knees, one hand resting on one bony joint.

Nodding, Jim mimed typing, hating that his voice was so shot. He knew that he had been inordinately sick, and this was only frustrating him further. Khan didn’t let up the gentle motions as he reached down to his side and pulled up a padd. “I have documented as much as I can from our side of the colony world on here. If you want to document your observations for the official investigation which is sure to happen once Starfleet arrives; please use this padd as well.”

The first thing Jim typed was, _You’re supposed to be a fucking awful person. Power-hungry. Crazy. Your war-crimes are taught in college-level courses and neutered for primary school history lessons. Why are you so nice to me? What value do I have to you, an augment?_

“You were supposed to type the names of your guardians, James, _not_ open a can of worms.”

Jim flipped Khan the bird.

The augment snorted in amusement and brought the cup closer to his face so the boy could have another sip. “Sentiment received. And I will answer once you tell me who your guardians are.”

_Winona Kirk and Frank Davis._

“Who are they? Your mother and . . . ?”

_Her husband._

Speaking about opening up a can of worms. Noonien sighed for effect but began planning on using the rift already there to continue to win the boy to his side. Even though it appeared that he would not have to try very hard.

He stopped himself, considering this line of thought. They were trying to show the Federation, not just Starfleet, that they were rehabilitating themselves, working on modifying their behaviors and thought patterns away from manipulation in order to rule over others. This would be as good a time as any to challenge his own thought processes and to do what he could to make things right for this boy . . . for the sake of making things right. But he would give James a home; the boy clearly was in need of a supportive environment.

“Well, that would explain part of why you were reluctant to give me their names. Now, to answer your questions.” He settled in, Siriom stroking the back of his pale neck before leaving the room. “The victors write the history books, James. Remember this. I have made some _extraordinarily_ questionable military and leadership choices by both the morals of my time and yours. While I am not perfect, there has been considerable manipulation of phrases that make me out to being much more of a homicidal boogeyman than what happened in fact. I do not deny that many people died at my hand; those are stories for another day.”

Jim made an impatient movement with one hand.

The ancient warlord smirked. “You’ll learn patience, James. But in time. You have value because you breathe. You live. You _are_. It’s not about what you are or who you are, but you have value simply because you are a living human.”

_You’re not human, though. History books and even your own words said that you’re not human._

“You are correct. But considering that you now have my blood in your system, and that even your own eye color was changed prior to my intervention, you are no longer fully _naturally_ human yourself, now are you?” At James’ stricken look at this full realization, Khan leaned in closer, seafoam eyes shifting to an intense blue at the slight change in light and mood. “But your status as augment does not increase your value with me. I have learned, as have those with me on this miserable colony, more than my lesson of the inherent value of all living beings.”

_So what **does** decide my value? Be honest. _

Oh, this boy was smart! Khan’s grin turned calculating. “I will answer the unasked question in regards to the rest of your pack: You are all _fighters_. You have the drive to live and to make something of yourselves. You did not allow yourselves to succumb to hopelessness, and tried to get as far away from Kodos as possible.”

“I. Want. Him. Dead.”

Each word was separated by a shuddering breath, young eyes flashing with an adult hatred and anger.

Khan leaned closer. “Tell me how, my son, my actual blood, and I will avenge your wrongs.”

~*~

Siriom was there when Jim woke up the next time. Her hands were a blur as she made notes on the padd on her lap. Her voice was smooth, soft on his ears. “Starfleet has reached orbit, and we have made contact. They are currently negotiating with Khan. He has made many demands that we be relocated to our own planet without a Terran influence, but we know that we will not have that luxury. It is more likely that instead of Starfleet, the Federation will be handling our case.”

“Because they failed us.”

“Us, James?” Siriom stilled, looking at the boy who would be her son. She handed him a glass of water to soothe his throat.

“Augments and the human colonists. Both of us. Doesn’t matter the species.” He coughed into his elbow, sighing and shifting. “Can I get out of bed, now?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Siriom grinned. “Because you’re going to help us push, to prove, our so-called agenda.”

Jim’s eyes narrowed, and the pain normally associated with the motion since his eyes were changed wasn’t there. Looks like that augment healing factor was already kicking in retroactively. He knew that the Augments were out for their own needs and gain, and he didn’t blame them for that. He didn’t agree with their genocidal tenancies, not after seeing Kodos’ own brand of eugenics, but they weren’t trying to do anything more than survive right now. He’d wait and see if they tried to take over Earth, but he had the feeling _that_ wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

He licked his lips. “How am I going to help you?”

~*~

Acting Captain Christopher Pike finally tossed the padd down onto the large table that sat between himself, several other Captains responding to this mess, the three Augments, and three high-ranking survivors from the Colony. It spun its way to the very center before stilling. He hadn’t waited for it to stop all motion before he stood with an explosive sigh, ignoring the glare from his superiors and those who thought they had more field-experience than he had. He walked over to the synthesizer and punched in an order for a strong shot of synthahol, slamming it back and drawing in another deep breath, ignoring the splutters of indignation from several of the Starfleet officers.

His Captain was still in an induced coma from the last emergency that they had responded to. And now _this_ and he had _goddamned Winona-fucking-Kirk_ losing her ever-loving _shit_ in Engineering when she found out that her son had been on Tarsus and then he had to send in the half-Klingon and the Vulcan to bring her to her quarters and settle her down. When they reported back, it seemed that her husband (soon-to-be-ex) had shipped Jim out after Sam had ran away. Neither occasion of which he had discussed with their mother. Sam was found safe with some of the Kirk relatives and hadn’t been aware that his status was checked upon. Jim was missing, presumed dead.

“You know, fuck it.” He turned and made full eye contact with one Khan Noonien Singh, startling the man into straightening. There had been a memo passed prior to this meeting as to what behaviors were not acceptable in Augment culture, and that was one of the main points. “Your terms are fair, I don’t see any leading verbiage that would give you any contact with Earth unless it’s an emergency, which you _tried_ to do here, and I can have one of my cargo bays retrofitted for dorms to get you and your people to your next destination. I’ll _personally_ handle your case with Starfleet and the Federation. Deal?”

“ _Acting_ Captain Pike, you are bold.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Now tell me something that I _don’t_ know.”

The sharp gaze narrowed, but not in aggression. “You are stressed beyond what normal negotiations would suggest. May I inquire as to why?”

Pike mentally logged that expression as “curiosity” and moved on, answering the question. “Chief Engineer Winona Kirk’s boy is somewhere on Tarsus and I saw that kid born.”

The eyes darkened. “James Tiberius Kirk is safe and recovering with my Augments. He and eight others made it to our territory alive. He has stated no desire to return to his mother or step-father.”

Chris nearly fell back into his seat. “Oh, thank God he’s safe.” Rubbing his face, he looked to the other Captains before continuing the “aggressive” behavior towards the Augment. “Look, I don’t care _where_ that boy is, but so long as he’s alive, I have a functioning Chief Engineer.”

“You care very much for him.”

“The kid’s and his idiot runaway brother are almost nephews to me. If I wasn’t stationed on a ship, I’d probably have custody of those two bratty geniuses.”

“Good term to describe him as; he is quite stubborn, but something must have been done right somewhere in his past. I’m willing to lay credits on that being your positive influence.” Khan leaned closer, hands folding on the table. “I have a feeling it may have been your influence. He saved those children, and would have saved more if they had not died on their way to put distance between themselves and Kodos.”

“Kodos is missing.”

Khan’s comm chirped.

He grinned ferally. “Not for long. I call for a recess of three standard hours. Christopher Pike, yourself and your Chief Medical Officer are welcome in our complex. Joachim will personally escort you both to see Jim.” Khan stood, turning towards the door.

“And where the hell do you think you’re going?” Captain Barrett asked softly, though firmly.

The man paused at the door, huffed a laugh, and turned. “I’m putting an end to the pathetic man who repeated my mistakes without learning the lesson I became an example for. Pike, I will ensure that your people get the evidence of his demise and will meet you at my base. Do understand that I do not want any of these spineless fools to accompany you.” He grinned. “After all, you challenged me to take you seriously, _Captain_. Adieu.”

Barnett leaned forward to stare at the slightly-younger man. “If I’d’ve known you’d been packing _that_ level of bullshit this entire time, I might have asked you to crack earlier. Well, we have our marching orders. Better get that forensics team ready to receive Kodos’ body.”

~*~

Jim heard feet rushing towards his room. He had not been “dressed up” for the part of recovering invalid. Instead, he was trying to sneak out of the biobed, but couldn’t figure out how to hack the alarms from letting Siriom know that he was attempting to escape.

He had one foot down when he heard a hoarse whisper in a voice he had never expected to hear on this damned planet. “James Tiberius Kirk.”

Tears sprang unbidden to the young man’s eyes, and he blindly turned and stumbled into his Uncle Chris’ arms. He was picked up and would have protested it if he was sure that his legs wouldn’t hold him up. Strong arms kept him close as he was shifted and held on a lap, back on the biobed so that he would still be monitored.

The shuddering breaths of the man made him realize that Chris was crying, too.

Sobbing.

He gripped the man’s uniform fabric as tightly as he could, unable to even begin to get a grasp on his own emotions. At some point, he started to feel soothed, calmed, and hadn’t realized that he had gripped a second hand in this time. Trying to squeeze open his swollen eyelids, he saw a flash of pale skin, dark hair, and blue eyes. There was a fleck of blood high on the angular cheek, the one imperfection on his visage.

Chris didn’t seem to be that tense around Khan, and it was a relief to Jim. The man was still holding him close, letting his exhausted little body drape over the warmth of another living being.

It could have been five minutes or five hours later when someone spoke from the doorway.

“Captain, we have to report back.”

Jim whined high in the back of his throat, the noise a little more than a breath.

Chris Pike curled Jim closer. “You’re safe here, Jim. Khan and his family are here for you.”

Nodding, the young man pressed his face to Chris’ neck. “Where’s mom?”

“She’s staying on the ship. I’m not letting her down here.”

“I don’t want to see her.”

“I know. I don’t blame you, Jimmy.” Pike lifted his head from where he pressed a kiss to Jim’s head. “Khan, do I have permission to return here tomorrow?”

The silent nod that the old warlord gave while he kept his gaze on the scrawny, sick boy was enough to truly convince Chris that this was the safest, and possibly healthiest, place that Jim could be right now. He stood, carefully turning and settling Jim back on the biobed, pulling the blanket up around narrow shoulders. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Jim nodded, trying to make his hands let go of his honorary Uncle, but they wouldn’t obey him. Tears squeezed out of the foreign blue eyes, and Khan murmured softly, “I’m sure that Captain Pike can stay until you fall asleep, James.”

The CMO rolled his eyes, grouchy in the way that all active-duty starship doctors were before settling himself outside on a bench again. Pike was certain that particular bedside manner was a course taught in Starfleet. He leaned in and kissed Jim’s forehead again. “I’ll be here until you sleep. You’re like a cat, Jimmy; you keep landing on your feet in the most absurd situations.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is titled "Rescue Me" after the song by the same title by Eurielle.


End file.
